


Kaleidoscope of Butterflies

by K1mHeechu1



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Depression, Romance, Suicide Notes, Weddings, seriously what am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K1mHeechu1/pseuds/K1mHeechu1
Summary: "A kaleidoscope is a continually changing pattern of shapes and colors. Hundreds of butterflies would create a pattern of shapes and vivid colors that would be changing every second."Or: all the different colours that make Yuzuru who he is.





	1. Toska

**Author's Note:**

  * For [4Mia3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/4Mia3/gifts).



> Collection of figure skating drabbles that are too short to be a full story. 
> 
> Some will be related to each other, others will be stand-alone's.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toska - noun /ˈtō-skə/ - Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness. 
> 
> Or: Yuzuru has a realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.
> 
> This is extremely short and written on a whim, but I actually quite like it.
> 
> I've never written anything like this before, so I'm sorry if it didn't turn out that well.
> 
> Thanks to 4Mia3 for beta-ing and scolding me as always, and for being the best cheerleader.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> No Shomas were injured while making this story.

He didn't know what had been the catalyst.

 

Maybe it had been  **_his_ ** eyes, brown, deep and sweet, that always had a stare that told him he wasn't insane. That all he did, trying to force his body to break the law of physics and do things on the ice while standing on a paper thin metal blade wasn't crazy.

 

Maybe it had been  **_his_ ** soft, brown hair, or how it always made him want to sink his fingers into it and play with each short curl, forcing them to straighten and then letting them go to see them spring back into place.

 

No, maybe it had been ** _his_** skin, that smelled like orange blossoms, and was always warm under his touch, when his skin was caressed softly and carefully, his cheeks cradled between big hands, or he was offered a hug when he needed it.

 

Or, why not, maybe it had been ** _his_** whole face. **_His_** distinctive features, thick eyelashes, prominent jaw-line, that ever present smile that was always there, pulling **_his_** lips apart.

 

 ** _His_** red lips, that he yearned to kiss. He wanted it so much that it burned deep in his veins, his heart constricting with every painful beat.

 

He didn't know what had been the catalyst.

 

But it didn't really matter, because this was real life.

 

Her, walking towards **_him_ ** **.** Wearing an impeccable white dress. Hair in an elaborate updo. A transparent veil covering her face.

 

Tears on her cheeks. Radiant smile on her face.

 

He was also smiling widely, trying to hide the sadness in his eyes.

 

He only realised it was real when she was next to **_him_** **.**

 

When ** _he_** took her hand.

 

And took her to the altar.

 

When he realised he was in a church, standing next to **_him_**. But he was only the best man.

 

This wasn't his wedding. He could wish all he wanted, but this wasn't his wedding.

 

He wanted to be anywhere else but here.

 

He didn't feel the burning jealousy until he saw **_him_** taking her hand.

 

He didn't really see **_him_** until he was standing next to **_him_** in a church.

 

He didn't see what he could've had, what had been offered to him a million times over the years until it was too late.

 

He didn't realised he had been in love all along, until love wasn't a possibility any more and he realised he would have to find a way to force it to lay dormant inside of him, along with the memories of shared moments and stolen intimacy.

 

Had he reacted earlier, he was sure he would've been victorious.

 

Had he reacted earlier, he could've had **_him_**.

 

Had he reacted earlier, he could've had  **_Javier_ ** **.**

 

For **_Javier_** had been in love with him all along.

 

And he had been a foolish little boy.

 

A foolish little boy that had thought he had forever.

 

And now realised, the world goes on.

 

Even if Yuzuru was now forever stuck loving a married man that had loved him back all this time, but had gotten tired of waiting for him.

  
  



	2. Natsukashii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 懐かしい (-i inflection, hiragana なつかしい, rōmaji natsukashii)
> 
> nostalgic, reminiscent of good memories, missed, longed for, yearned after
> 
> Or: Yuzuru skates his feelings out. Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Someone stop me, please.
> 
> (Thanks 4Mia3 again for the awesomeness.)
> 
> Happy Reading!

The melody seems to separate into individual notes that vibrate together and intertwine one last time before getting lost in the air, leaving a trail of melancholy behind.  The singer's voice is sad, almost quiet at times, his accent helping communicate the feeling behind the words more than the word themselves ever could. The low-pitched notes talk of times long gone, moments where everything was better, moments that the high-pitched notes cry out in despair for.  The figure on the ice, all powerful lines and sad colours, covered in a veil of fragility and pain, reveals its soul's laments, death shadowing every movement.

  
  
  


Javier is gone.

  
  
  


Javier is never coming back.

  
  
  


It's never going back to the way it was before.

  
  
  


The melody gets more franctic, as the singer lets his pain be known, broken voice and dramatic instrumental backing the feeling, and the figure on the ice moves faster, in time with his heart, that beats a cursed beat, the beat of someone that will not know what love is because their heart already belongs to someone that can no longer love them back.

  
  
  


He's the reason he can't have all that was there for him to grab and hold onto. Now, all he has left is to melt, become one with the ice he now strokes like a lover would stroke the skin of the person that holds their heart. He strokes the ice like he knows he will until death claims him, however long or short that wait might be.

  
  
  


He has the feeling he has a long life ahead of himself. One full of toxic memories and what ifs.

  
  
  


He's gone.

  
  
  


The music slows down, but his skating grows in speed, a furious race full of guilt, shame and resentment. Hating the world, hating the ice, hating the people that force him to hide who he really is and be locked in a glass cage, there on display, for everyone to see and inspect, but never to touch, but more than anything, hating himself, for not seeing the true, for not grabbing the chance of keeping one of the few things that made him happy to live his life while he could.

  
  
  


He will go on, because that's what's expected of him.

  
  
  


To fight, to thrive, to win, to conquest.

  
  
  


But Javier is gone and now he doesn't really care about most things.

  
  
  


He doesn't care about the lightness of the sky that's starting to lose its darkness to become blood red with sunrise, as it filters through the big glass windows that are at the end of the rink.

  
  
  


He doesn't care about the rink they both had shared when they were younger, dreaming together of ice, and medals, and greatness, their destinies tangled by that friendship no one had ever been able to explain. They should've fought all the time, they should've hated each other. Instead, they had become each others crutch as they stood at the top, together, trying to hold onto each other but knock each other down at the same time. The rink had seen their souls mature and expand, the ice knew their secrets.

  
  
  


The ice knew Yuzuru's secrets and pains, that he was carving into it that Friday night... Saturday morning.

  
  
  


And if that ice, hurt by the edge of his blades, could cry out its pain, it would've surely cried blood mixed with tears.

  
  
  


Because Yuzuru and the ice both would ache forever, nostalgy in every single step, missing Javier and his matching strokes.


	3. Iktsuarpok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iktsuarpok (uncountable)- Inuit
> 
> The feeling of anticipation while waiting for someone to arrive, often leading to intermittently going outside to check for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt guilty for not posting anything today (yesterday? whatever, it's 4AM lol), so I'm bringing you this thing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> It's in no way linked to any of the previous chapters, just making sure you know.
> 
> Happy reading!

He checked his phone. Nothing.

 

He stood up. Run to the front door. Stared out of the peeping hole. Nothing.

 

Thunder.

 

Drops of water against the window.

 

Wind howling like an angry pack of wolves.

 

Still, time moved too slowly.

 

Head against the wall,  hair messy from constantly running fingers through it, as if rearranging the strands would magically make his wish come true.

 

A meow. He looked to his right to find the fat, fluffy cat staring at him, judgement written all over her face.

 

He was losing his mind. Cats can't judge. There was no way the cat was actually judging him.

 

He closed his hands into fists, tightening the grip before opening them again.

 

He checked his phone. Nothing.

 

He stood up. Run to the front door. Stared out of the peeping hole. Nothing.

 

Thunder.

 

Drops of water against the window.

 

Wind howling like an angry pack of wolves.

 

He let out a frustrated wail, sinking down to his knees as he, once again, messed up his hair.

 

He gave up, lying flat on his back on the floor. Everything felt wrong. His hair too long, his skin too tight, his smile too weak. His body kept reminding him he no longer was a hopeful 15 year old that wanted to conquer the world. He was now 25, and he had been on top of the world for years, watching people go on with their lives like one tries to make sense of people on the ground through an aeroplane window. His everything had been ruined, at one point or another. His trust had been broken, his mind had been shattered, his muscles and tendons and bones had been cut, snapped and tied together for one more chance, one more skate, one more competition. One more day. He always asked for one more day.

 

He let out a groan, low, quiet, but powerful. He often wondered how he hadn't gone mad.

 

He checked his phone. Nothing.

 

He stood up. Run to the front door. Stared out of the peeping hole. Nothing.

 

Thunder.

 

Drops of water against the window.

 

Wind howling like an angry pack of wolves.

 

A different noise. Light metal sound hitting wood.

 

Hope in his eyes as he took a step back.

 

The rattling of keys as the door opened.

 

A face. Tired, disheveled. But there. Real. In front of him.

 

A smile. Cheeks making his eyes smaller. He couldn't see anything other than fondness in those eyes.

 

He threw himself into Javier's arms, repeating the same words over and over again, like a prayer he had know by heart for years.

 

"You're here. You're here. You're back. You came back. You're here"

 

Javier dropped everything to catch Yuzuru in his arms. The weight was unexpected, as Yuzuru could hardly stand without trembling, knees weak and threatening to give up. He didn't care. He could bear all that weight to make sure Yuzuru was okay.

 

"You're here. You're here. You're back. You came back. You're here."

 

The desperation in Yuzuru's voice made his whole body ache with regret. For not being able to erase Yuzuru's pain. For not being able to turn back time and make everything right from the start.

 

"I'm here. I'm back. I promised, and I came back. I'm yours, only yours."

 

Yuzuru's cheeks were wet with tears, and Javier wiped them away with his fingers, gently caressing the soft cheeks. The only drops that day should belong to the rain that was falling outside. The had no business being on Yuzuru's face.

 

"Mine? For real? No trick, or lies, or changing your mind?"

 

Javier nodded. And bent down to capture Yuzuru's lips with his, matching each tear with a kiss, each sob with a moan, each ache with a caress.

 

Thunder.

 

Drops of water against the window.

 

Wind howling like an angry pack of wolves.

 

But to Yuzuru, everything was quiet.

 

The only sounds that existed in the world were the rustling of sheets, the wet smack of lips against lips and the breathy moans and murmured promises.

 

The only things that existed in the world were Javier's careful fingers mapping figures on his skin under his clothes, and his lips kissing his temple as he muttered loving words into his skin, and the happiness he never thought would be his to have.

 

Because Yuzuru Hanyu was 25, and he was still on top of the world.

 

His trust had been broken, his mind had been shattered, his muscles and tendons and bones had been cut, snapped, and tied together again for one more chance, one more skate, one more day.

 

But Yuzuru Hanyu had decided to take a leap of faith, and gave away the only thing that remained undamaged and untouched about him.

 

He had put his heart in Javier Fernandez's hands. Without knowing what would happen. Without knowing if he'd find it broken on the ice as someone skated over it and destroyed the last thing he had to give.

 

And Javier Fernandez had answered the only way he knew how. By putting his own heart into Yuzuru Hanyu's hands and asking him to keep it safe, like he would Yuzuru's.

 

He had taken a leap of faith, and someone had caught him as he fell.

 

Thunder.

 

Drops of water against the window.

 

Wind howling like an angry pack of wolves.

  
  


But the only things that were real were sleepy happiness, and warm words muttered into warm skin.

 

No more thunder.

 

Windows dried by the sudden sunlight.

 

Birds singing.

 

And the sound of love, coming from their exchanged hearts.


	4. Yacija

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yacija- noun  
> 1 bed; rough bed  
> 2 grave, tomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no explanation for this.
> 
> Trigger warning for Implied Suicide.

I am going to sleep.

 

I'm ready to sleep. The day is almost done and so am I.

 

I am going to sleep.

 

I readied the suit, the one that doesn't really fit, that's the one I want to wear. It fits me just like this world fits me. Awkwardly, too large in some places and just wrong.

 

I am going to sleep.

 

I only want a few things with me. My bear, the necklaces, the bracelets, and a single red carnation.

 

I am going to sleep.

 

I'm turning the lights off, lying my head down, and closing my eyes.

 

I am going to sleep.

 

Constellations all around me. I wonder where I will fit up there. If I fit at all.

 

I am going to sleep.

 

Please leave me alone. I am finally ready to rest. I am finally ready to go.

 

I am going to sleep.

 

Do not be sad for me, for I am finally happy. I finally get to stop pretending. I finally get to let go.

 

I am going to sleep.

  
  
  
  


 

 

Oh,

And if he asks, tell him I'm no longer here. Tell him I loved him, but I'm gone and I'm never coming back.

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

I am going to sleep

 

I'm no prince, I'm no king, I'm no legend. I'm just a broken man, that's trying to fix it all.

 

I am going to sleep.

 

Finally.

 

I'm going to sleep.


	5. Añoranza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Añoranza- (Noun) Spanish
> 
> Yearning/grieving for something/someone that's far away/not around  
> The Sense of loss that comes from losing or being deprived from a loved one/ loved things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I even say at this point?  
> Whatever this is, is tied up with the last one (Yacija).

If I could turn back time, I would do things differently. 

I would wait a little longer.

I would hold a little tighter. Hug a little warmer.

  
  


If I could turn back time, I would look at you while you laugh.

I would make you smile wider.

I would love you _**more.**_

 

If I could turn back time, seven years would last forever,

and forever would be reality, not just a promise I will never fulfill.

 

If I could turn back time, I would stop pushing you away,

I would pull you towards me. I would never let you go.

 

**But I can’t turn back time.**

 

She told me you’re no longer here. 

She told me you loved me, but you’re gone, and you’re never coming back.

And all I’m left with is this tear-stained paper I’m writing this letter on.

_ All I’m left with is this letter you will never get to read. _

  
  



	6. Stigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stigma  
> /ˈstɪɡmə/  
> noun
> 
> a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person.

Close my eyes.

See the world.

Actually rest.

Stop thinking about it.

That's all I want to do.

 

 

 

Close my eyes. 

Grab the warmth.

Wrap it around me.

Never let it go.

That's all I want to do.

 

 

 

Close my eyes.

Run out of fights to fight.

Run out of pains to feel.

Run out of hurt to inhale.

That's all I want to do.

 

 

 

Close my eyes.

Feel that cold against my skin.

Know that I'm falling again.

Prepare myself for one more battle.

That's what I'm going to do.

 

 

 

Close my eyes.

Wonder if I'll get it right this time.

 

Goodnight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Clavel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clavel (Spanish- noun)  
> Carnation  
> A double-flowered cultivated variety of clove pink, with grey-green leaves and showy pink, white, or red flowers.  
> Spain's national flower.  
> Associated with a symbol of affection between lovers

Quiet tears. Warm blankets.

 

The weight of an elephant disguising as a butterfly on his chest.

 

Nothing.

 

Longing looks,  glittery fabric.

 

Unanswered messages.

 

'Are you okay?'

_~Seen_

'Is the ice still mocking you?'

_~Seen_

'Please rest.  Don't do something stupid.'

_~Seen_

'Congratulations. I'm proud of you.'

_~Seen_

'I'm sorry.  I have to.'

**_~Seen_ **

 

He has noticed.  He'd have to be daft not to.  That cold avoidance he restarted, has now grown into a snowstorm.

 

The **_ground_ ** between them is frozen. So is the **_distance_ ** between them.

 

And skating is his life, but he has no idea how to close the distance that separates them without slipping, and falling,  and getting hurt.

 

He just bites his lip,  and watches _him_ charm public and snakes alike.

 

And cries inside.

 

Quiet tears. Frigid nights.

 

That feeling of what could be.  That feeling of what he could've had.  That feeling of what he gave up thinking it would always be there. That feeling of what he now knows is gone.

 

Loud cries. Red fists. Blood on the mirror.

 

Carnations were always _his_ favourite flowers.

 

Javier should've given _him_ all the carnations in this world.  Instead, he gave _him_ up.

 

And now he'll have to live in the eternal winter that is left now that _he's_ gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been marked as completed, as it's a collection of snippets and scenes that are independent from each other. New chapters might be added in the future still, but each chapter can even be read independently and still make sense so, please look forward to more whatever these things are in the future!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The five times...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297351) by [Mira_Mirai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira_Mirai/pseuds/Mira_Mirai)




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